


The Last Ten Years

by one_more_page



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Falling In Love, It's a love story so it has a bit of everything, Jealous!Arthur, Jealous!Merlin, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mutual Pining, a brief moment of cross dressing, a dash of Domestic Fluff, a ten year love story told in vignettes, but angst runs rampant throughout, canon has been shamelessly picked over to suit my needs, i promise there is a happy ending, is it death if they are sleeping in avalon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_more_page/pseuds/one_more_page
Summary: For Merlin the story ends with Arthur in his arms, resting beside a lake, hoping it isn't goodbye forever.For Arthur the story begins with an insolent stranger opposing him in front of his knights and upending his world.And in the middle they fall in love.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 336





	1. ACT I

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure this has been done before but this idea would not leave me alone.
> 
> Title and story structure come from the musical The Last Five Years. Merlin's story is told from end to the beginning and Arthur's is told from beginning to end. Sections are labeled appropriately.

**_Merlin - Year 10_ **

The breath was coming in gasping pants in his ear, weaker with each inhale, as he carried his King toward the water that would be his salvation, just on the other side of the forest. 

So close. 

Too far.

“Just…” a shuddering breath. A sigh. “Stop for a minute.”

An order disguised as a request. Merlin fell heavily to the ground, his arms wrapped securely around Arthur’s chest all but dragging him to the lake of Avalon. Merlin was panting too. His breath thick with fear and panic and a pain that bore no physical scars but was sharper than any blade or knife.

The meadow they were in was too beautiful, a grotesque mockery of the nature of the journey. A gentle breeze blew past them, carrying with it the smell of wildflowers and damp earth and _life_.

Arthur’s breath held a rattling sound now, fluid seeping into his lungs, destroying him from the inside.

“I told you,” Arthur rasped, “you should start training with the knights. Then you would be able to carry me with ease.”

Merlin choked a startled laugh, adjusted Arthur so his head was in his lap, ran his fingers through his hair. “And I told _you_ to lay off the second helpings at banquets.”

Arthur laughed, or he tried to. It was a wet horrid noise that sent him into a coughing fit. The pain in Merlin burned so sharp, just to the left of his sternum, right through his heart.

The sky was so blue nearly the color of the King’s eyes but not as beautiful because it didn’t belong to _Arthur_. His King’s skin was growing paler and damp with the perspiration from the journey as Arthur’s body grew weaker and it was with a terrible sinking sensation that Merlin realized they weren’t going to make it.

Merlin had failed. 

He had ten years to change the end to this story but here he was, fate unraveling just as it was always destined to, and Merlin as powerless to stop it as everyone warned him he would be.

Those too blue eyes studied him without blinking as Merlin tried to hold back the sobs that were desperate to escape. He saw the moment that Arthur had the same realization as he did.

Another sigh, wet and _awful_. “I want to tell you something.”

Merlin clenched his jaw and glared, eyes stinging. “You aren’t saying _goodbye_.”

Arthur shook his head, tried for a smile, twisted more into a grimace on his face. “Of course not.” Arthur lifted a gloved hand to caress Merlin’s cheek and another choked sob escaped before he could stop it. He should be comforting _Arthur_ , getting his emotions in check so Arthur doesn’t have to watch him rip apart at the seams right before he leaves.

“I’ll wait for you,” Merlin whispered. “The prophecies say you will come back.” 

_Or I’ll bring you back myself, stop time, turn the tides, rewrite the very fabric of this universe_.

Arthur blinked away his own tears. “I don’t want you to have to wait.”

Merlin scoffed. “You know I will. You are my King.” 

_My love_.

Arthur gave a sad smile as he traced the lines of Merlin’s face. Was he doing the same thing Merlin was? Committing everything to memory one last time: the lines at the corner of his eyes and the cut of his cheekbones and the way his hair plastered to his forehead when it was wet and the exact shade of his eyes, bluer than the fucking sky.

Gods Merlin was never going to be able to look at the sky without thinking of Arthur was he? Though in fairness, he doubted there was anything on this earth that wouldn’t remind him of Arthur.

“I know,” Arthur gasped. “We’ll go -- in a moment. For now -- just -- hold me.”

All of Merlin’s magic and foresight and careful planning and in the end it didn’t count for anything. He wasn’t going to be able to save Arthur.

What was the point of being the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth if he couldn’t even change destiny?

\--

**_Arthur- Year 1_ **

The axe sailed singing through the air where it sunk deep into the target the servant held. The knights around him laughed as the boy peeked his head around the edge of it looking affronted and angry but too afraid to say anything to the Prince. Arthur pretended to join in but the sharp sting of his father’s words that morning were still ringing in his ears.

 _I expected more from you Arthur, how are you to one day rule this Kingdom if you do not even understand what it means to punish criminals._ _Even if he is a boy, he still practiced magic. And for that he will burn._

He grabbed another axe and tossed it once, caught it with a clenched jaw. He looked back toward the target. This wasn’t satisfying enough, he needed a challenge that he could meet and _win_.

“How about _you_ start running,” he told the servant, he was pretty sure his name was Morris. The knights around him started cackling. Only Leon looked on from the edge of the field with something like disapproval on his face, but Arthur knew he would never say anything. Not when he was so close to being knighted, not with Arthur above him in rank and station. 

Maybe-Morris looked around the target again, jaw agape. Arthur impatiently waved his hand before him, indicating he should _move_ , and then the target was carried unsteadily, swaying with no rhyme or rhythm and Arthur smiled. _This_ was a better challenge.

He sunk two more axes with rapid succession before Maybe-Morris collapsed next to another boy with a mop of unruly hair and ears that stuck out. His clothes were ratty and his boots scuffed but the look he was giving Arthur was one he usually only received from nobleman or his father, the judgement clear. 

Interesting.

The boy with the large ears shook his head at Arthur. “You’ve had your fun, my friend. Why don’t you let him go?”

Arthur felt his eyebrows climb high on his forehead. This boy certainly had some nerve. “Do I know you?”

The boy looked back at Maybe-Morris then turned his judgemental gaze back to Arthur and sighed in something that might be annoyance. “No,” he admitted at last.

Arthur took a few strides forward, eyebrow raised, appraising. “And yet you called me friend?”

The boy adopted a deferential expression, it was out of place on his face. The cheekbones too high and lips too wicked for any look but mischief or insolence. “That was my mistake.” The boy’s mouth curled into a smirk which looked so at home amongst the fae-like features Arthur knew it was an expression he wore often. It made his pulse thrum in his veins. “I could never be friends with someone who was such an ass.”

The knights around him were a mix of startled and horrified. Some of them trying to stifle their snorts, others with their hands going to their hilts, ready to draw swords to defend their Prince. In the distance, Leon wasn’t even attempting to hide his amusement. 

A sharp laugh escaped before Arthur could capture it. He stalked closer to the boy. “Do you know who I am?” The boy couldn’t, it was the only explanation for his behavior, the fact he had no idea who the Prince of Camelot was. No one had ever dared treat Arthur this way before so the boy had to be ignorant or utterly oblivious. 

He liked it, this push and pull and give and take. It was new and different. A challenge he wanted to face. It scratched an itch inside him he didn’t even know he had.

The boy raised an eyebrow, smirking further and _this_ expression was one that spoke of mischief and teasing and disobedience and _trouble_. “Well you _seem_ to think you’re the King.”

In two quick strides Arthur was before the boy, with a quick kick to his instep and a grab of his arm, Arthur had the boy pinned in his arms so he could lean down and whisper into his ear, “no, I’m his _son_.”

He was awarded with the boy giving a nearly inaudible groan and quietly saying, “just my fucking luck.”

It was much harder than it should have been to stop from laughing out loud.

\--

**_Merlin- Year 9_ **

Merlin softly closed the door to their chamber, trying his best to make no noise. The meeting had run significantly longer than he thought it would and Arthur had probably fallen asleep hours ago. Merlin just couldn’t let it rest. Not until he knew all of the sorcerers, his _apprentices_ , knew their duties and could recite the spells in their sleep. It was going to be the first battle with sorcerers and knights fighting side-by-side and as Court Sorcerer, Merlin couldn’t help but feel like he had a lot to prove.

After her third pupil fell asleep with their head hitting the table with a loud thud, Morgana had finally made him end the meeting. Morgana was fiercely protective of her acolytes as a High Priestess of the Old Religion.

A warm, heavy weight pressed against him and pushed him into the door. He smiled and let his head rest against the rough wood. He should have known Arthur would have waited up for him despite telling him countless times not to. Although it wasn’t really fair for Merlin to be annoyed, it’s not as if he ever did what Arthur asked.

“You’re late,” Arthur’s voice was deep with sleep, his chest rumbling against Merlin’s back as he pushed closer, hands gripping his hips, nose nuzzling into the spot just behind Merlin’s ear that always made his knees nearly give out. “You kept your King waiting.”

“Yes, well,” Merlin took in an unsteady breath against the open-mouth kisses running the length of his jaw, “I have a vested interest in keeping my King alive.”

Strong arms gripped his forearms until he was spun around, back hitting the door and Arthur looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You know the rule.”

Merlin sighed, hands reaching up to scratch Arthur’s scalp, pulled him closer. “I know.” 

After one too many late night conversations about destinies and prophecies Arthur had forbidden Merlin from discussing such things in their chambers. Arthur didn’t think it was anything to worry about, the prophecy of the High King of Albion and the Once and Future King and the fact that he was destined to die at the hands of a druid and _Mordred_ was a Knight of Camelot now. Merlin could worry about little else.

Arthur leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. Merlin loved this, the weight and heat of Arthur’s body flush against his, the feeling of his pulse right under Merlin’s fingertips, the smell of Arthur’s soap and sweat filling his soul. It had been so long since something truly terrible had happened that Merlin couldn’t help but feel like they were due, like all of his happiness would be snatched in the night if Merlin so much as let his guard down.

Arthur pressed his lips against Merlin’s, once. The kiss chaste and fleeting but it made Merlin burn all the same. “Stop thinking,” he whispered against Merlin’s lips.

Merlin smirked against Arthur’s mouth. “Make me.”

Arthur let loose a chuckle. It was one of Merlin’s very favorite things about Arthur, when he would laugh like it surprised him, like he wasn’t expecting to feel such joy and it slipped out before he could bury it under his fine-tuned decorum. And Merlin loved being the only one who could make it happen.

Leaning forward, Arthur skimmed his nose along the line of Merlin’s cheekbone until his mouth was right by his ear when he whispered, breath hot in his ear, “would you like to see your King walk on his knees?”

Merlin snorted before he could stop himself and Arthur gave him a half-hearted glare. Merlin kissed him in apology, keeping the kiss chaste despite Arthur’s tongue moving along the seam of his lips, kindling a fire deep in his stomach, slowly licking its way lower. He pulled back and tried not to melt at Arthur’s pout and satisfied himself by brushing his fingers across Arthur’s fringe. “Do you remember when you said that to me after we had just met? After you had me thrown in jail for insulting your fragile ego?” Merlin asked, running his fingers through Arthur’s silk-soft hair. Arthur hummed, skimming his lips along Merlin’s jaw, sucking a bruise into his neck, tonguing against his skin. Merlin’s hip involuntarily hitched and he could feel Arthur’s smirk against the juncture of his shoulder and his neck. “Was that a come on, even back then?”

Arthur leaned back and studied him with a look of such sincerity and love that Merlin’s heart _ached_. “I’ve told you countless times you’ve driven me to madness and it started the first time you had the audacity to talk to me as if I was just a person.” Merlin laughed but Arthur’s hands moved to the laces of his breeches and Merlin sucked in a sharp breath. “You should feel honored,” Arthur said in a much more authoritative voice, his eyes bright and teasing, the pupils already dark, “Kings rarely get on their knees for anyone.”

“Well this King sure is taking his damn time with it,” Merlin grumbled between panting breaths and Arthur let out another bark of a laugh before he sank to the ground and took Merlin apart.

\--

**_Arthur- Year 2_ **

“I know I said I wouldn’t say I told you so -- “

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur growled through clenched teeth.

Merlin huffed a sigh from his place against Arthur’s back. “Shut up?”

“You guessed it.”

It was supposed to be a short hunting trip. Just to take Arthur’s mind off his duties as a prince and his father’s increasing insistence he should marry and Morgana’s recent distance. And then Merlin got a “funny feeling” which Arthur ignored, as he usually did. Then there was the magical beast that chased them into the Valley of the Fallen Kings where Merlin proceeded to fall down a hill and Arthur had to go _after him_ and _then_ there were the bandits.

Then they were tied up in the middle of a hastily made camp with a cluster of the most foul men Arthur had the dishonor of laying his eyes on surrounding them.

One of the bandits smirked his ugly mug down at them, his mustache overgrown and his teeth rotted and yellow with a fair few missing. He and Merlin were tied with rope, back-to-back and Arthur couldn’t figure out a way to reach the hidden dagger in his boot given the angle of his ties.

Arthur might need to start trusting Merlin’s feelings.

The ugly bandit clicked his tongue at them. “Think they might fetch a decent price,” he told his companions. He kicked Arthur’s boot. “This one is strong enough for manual labor.” He moved around them, until Arthur couldn’t see him anymore but he could hear as he squatted down in front of Merlin. He felt Merlin push against his back as he tried to put some distance between him and the brute. “And this one is pretty enough to be bought by a King.”

White rage blinded Arthur as he snarled, “ _don’t fucking_ _touch him_.”

Merlin was _Arthur’s_ to protect. And it was a bit of a fulltime job as Merlin was somehow always in the line of fire: riding out beside Arthur without a stitch of armor on to face a magical beast, throwing himself before the throne declaring he has magic to save his friend from the pyre, speaking completely out of turn to stand up to visiting knights when they insulted other servants. It was after the third time Arthur had stopped Merlin from trying to take an arrow aimed for him that he realized his idiot of a manservant had no sense of self-preservation.

There was laughter all around them and Arthur swallowed down his rage. When he was free he was going to rip them all to pieces, watch their sinews snap as he tore out their limbs, run each and every one of them through with his sword, burn them alive with --

A fluttering of fingertips against his wrist pulled him back to himself.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice was soft, too soft for the men making bawdy jokes nearby to overhear. “They are trying to get a rise out of you.” A pause, the fingertips pushed right against his pulse. “We’re going to get out of here.”

Arthur took a steadying breath. “How can you possibly know that, Merlin?”

In the two years he had been in Arthur’s service as the World’s Worst Manservant, Merlin was not exactly known for his optimism. He was more likely to complain and grouse and tell Arthur of his various failings as a Prince and a human being. 

These feelings made Merlin’s attempts to save Arthur’s life all the more surprising.

He felt Merlin breathing, taking slow steady breaths pushing their backs close together with each inhale. “Because I’m with you.”

Emotion stitched Arthur’s throat shut as the impact of Merlin’s words hit him. Merlin wasn’t afraid of him, didn’t appease him the way everyone else did, so he could only be speaking from a place of total and complete honesty. And he said it with such _conviction_ , like it was a universal truth he believed in his bones.

Arthur worked his jaw a few times and blinked against the sting in his eyes before he could speak. “How far is your reach?”

With hissed whispers and small frantic movements, the rope was loosened enough for Merlin to stretch his arm behind him, skimming past Arthur’s hip, under his thigh, fingers searching -- “ _Merlin_!” “Sorry, sire!” -- until he hooked them into Arthur’s boot and pulled forth the dagger, pressed it into Arthur’s palm, fingers closing around his clenched fist just once.

They waited, biding their time, until the sun set and the fire was out.

Under the cover of night Arthur severed the ropes, making certain Merlin’s arms were not in his path of destruction. When they were free they snuck around the camp and Arthur grabbed his sword, took one step toward the bastard, before cool fingertips were against his wrist once more.

Merlin’s skin was near ethereal in the pale light of the moon, the nasty bruise right under his eye all the more apparent. Arthur wanted to run his thumb over it, soothe it, heal it forever. Merlin nodded toward the forest behind them. “They aren’t worth it,” he whispered.

Arthur clenched his jaw, his eyes bouncing from the bruise on Merlin’s face to the ones around his wrist, the disgusting phrases of their assailants ringing in his mind. “They deserve to be _punished_.”

The grip tightened around his wrist. “And you deserve to be safe.” When Arthur didn’t make any sign of moving Merlin sighed. “ _We_ deserve to be safe.”

Arthur grunted and took off into the woods, Merlin at his heels. When they were out of range of the bandits camp he turned to Merlin. “If I see them again, I will kill each and every one of them.”

Merlin quirked an eyebrow. “Not if I kill them first.”

Arthur shook his head and scoffed at his idiot manservant. His jokes were usually in poor taste and involved the most ludicrous things. As if Merlin could ever kill anyone.

As if Arthur wouldn’t be there to make sure he didn’t have to.

\--

**_Merlin- Year 8_ **

“What the hell was that?”

Arthur slammed the door to Merlin’s chambers and the King of Camelot crossed the room fuming.

Merlin blinked up from the magical text he was studying. It was a gift from the visiting dignitaries of Rodor, given to him by _Princess Mithian_ with a smile as Merlin stood beside Arthur on the steps of the castle greeting the party. Merlin had tried very hard not to grimace back.

She was here for a _treaty_. Merlin knew very well what _a treaty_ entailed between Kingdoms with unwed Kings and eligible Princesses and he was trying his best to be mature about the situation. Morgana’s sympathetic looks at the Council Meetings weren’t helping.

Merlin furrowed his brow. He hadn’t even seen Arthur all day so he wasn’t sure what he could have done to bring forth such ire. Merlin had tried to do something _nice_ , the way a completely-not-jealous friend would. “Did you not enjoy your day in the woods?”

Merlin had arranged with George for Arthur and Mithian to take the afternoon off and go for a ride in the forest with a picnic packed with all of Arthur’s favorite foods. 

Evidently this was the thanks he got.

Arthur clenched his jaw and glared. Merlin spared a moment to be thankful Arthur didn’t have any magic as he was fairly sure if Arthur did, he would have set Merlin on fire with his gaze alone.

White knuckling Merlin’s desk he leaned forward, across the scattered parchment and books. “I thought _you_ were going to be there.”

Merlin scowled and gathered up the papers Arthur was crushing, moving to put them back on the shelf. “I’m not your servant anymore, Arthur. If you want someone to put a carpet down beneath your feet as you walk, have George do it.” 

Though in the most private place in Merlin’s heart, he often missed being Arthur’s servant. Not the being bossed around part but the _intimacy_ of it. Of seeing Arthur first thing in the morning, sleepy and soft, face gentle and without the worry of his kingdom etched between his brows. He missed the tenderness of dressing him, his fingers ghosting over the flesh none but he (and now _George_ ) was privileged to see. He missed the hours it was just the two of them: alone in Arthur’s chambers, in the forest, riding on some quest. Even when they weren’t talking just existing together were moments Merlin would wrap up in neat bows in his memories and store them close to his soul. And then at the end of the day, he would blow out the final candle as he watched Arthur’s face, always watching him back with an honesty he only ever saw right before he went to sleep. 

He missed that most of all.

Arthur growled, running his hands through his hair, gripping in fistfulls like he might pull it out and throw it at Merlin. “That’s not what I _meant_ , you _idiot_.”

Merlin crossed his arms and glared at Arthur. “Well then what did you mean? Why would you want me on your _date_?” He spit the word out, acidic on his tongue.

Arthur’s jaw clicked open with an audible pop. He blinked at Merlin several times. “Why did you arrange for me to go on a date with Mithian?”

Merlin gave him a look that he hoped conveyed how stupid Arthur was being. “Because you’re going to _marry_ her.”

Arthur blinked several more times. “Who _told_ you that? I’m not going to _marry her!_ She’s here for a _treaty_.”

Merlin scoffed. “I think I know what _treaty_ means, Arthur.”

Arthur let out a laugh, loud in the small room of Merlin’s chambers. Though they were much larger than the room he used to lodge in with Gaius, appointed to him when he became the Court Sorcerer, they were not nearly as large as Arthur’s. Arthur’s mouth was still open, in disbelief and something that might be frustration and he shook his head as he stepped around Merlin’s desk.

“You are an _idiot_.” Arthur was stalking toward him, something dangerous in his eyes and Merlin took a step back only to hit the shelf, rattling the scrolls and books he stored there.

Merlin narrowed his eyes further, was Arthur going to regress to physically accosting him as he did when they were young? “If you just came here to insult me you can --”

Arthur swiftly and efficiently cut him off with a searing kiss, pulling Merlin against him, biting at his lips until Merlin made a much too embarrassing sound but parted his mouth for Arthur, letting Arthur taste and explore. It was several moments before Merlin realized he could probably participate as well so he nipped back in retaliation and hooked a leg around Arthur’s waist to bring their hips flushed together and he swallowed Arthur’s low moan.

Gods how he wanted this for _years_ , never once did he think Arthur would come around, he thought he was going to wait forever.

And he would have, but this was much nicer.

After a minute or an hour or maybe an eternity Arthur pulled back and stared at Merlin intently. Merlin heaved in a gasping breath and Arthur smiled, something soft and fond that nearly made Merlin’s knees weak, and shook his head.

“It would be terribly unfair for me to marry Mithian,” Arthur said, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s, “when I’m in love with my idiot of a Court Sorcerer.”

Some sort of screeching noise escaped Merlin’s throat. It felt a bit like the floor had given out and Arthur’s arms around him were the only things keeping him on his feet. “Oh,” he said when his voice came back, “well that’s fine.”

Another loose laugh echoed between them as Arthur studied him in fond exasperation. “ _Fine_?” he asked.

Merlin nodded but couldn’t fight the grin spreading across his face. “Yeah. I might be a bit in love with you too.”

Arthur beamed, crooked teeth and eyes crinkled and Merlin felt himself fall in love all over again with his King.

\--

**_Arthur- Year 3_ **

“This is my wife,” Arthur said and then immediately wanted to impale himself on his sword. 

That wasn’t what he was supposed to say.

The innkeeper nodded once, uninterested, evidently not hearing the shocked gasp from beneath the veil of the person beside him and just slid the iron key across the counter so they could unlock their room. 

They were in Cenred’s Kingdom investigating rumors that he had allied with a sorceress when they were attacked (why were they always attacked?) and separated from the rest of his knights. Arthur had evidently hit his head as when he came to, only Merlin was with him, stoking a fire in the middle of the woods, looking rather nervous. Arthur’s chest was wrapped in the shredded scraps of what was once his fine cloak, dark with his blood.

They were making their way back to Camelot, but the red of Arthur’s clothing was far too distinguishable and Merlin’s clothing was soaked in blood (his blood, though the wound did not feel deep enough to have bled so much, though in recent years it seemed his ability to gauge the severity of his wounds was getting worse as he nearly always came through mostly in one piece). They came across a small cottage in the middle of the wood and stole some garments from the laundry line.

Grabbing the key from the counter, Arthur glanced over at Merlin and though he couldn’t see him beneath the scarf he had wrapped around his head it was not difficult to picture his indignant expression, the blush undoubtedly coating his high cheeks, the slight pucker as he pursed his lips in anger. Arthur merely cocked an eyebrow and Merlin huffed as he stepped around him to head up the stairs before tripping over the hem of his skirt. Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist to keep him steady and ignored the scoff of protest from his manservant.

He found himself rather thankful Merlin was so irritated that he didn’t spare Arthur a backwards glance, he completely missed the scarlet blush coloring the Prince’s cheeks.

 _I am not dressing as a woman!_ Merlin had furiously whispered when Arthur showed him the clothes he had found.

Arthur did not even try to conceal his amusement. Mer _lin, these were the only clothes hanging on the line. If we are to seek sleeping accomodations for the evening you can’t very well enter soaked in blood._ Arthur helped up the faded worn soft blue dress against his chest. _I am far too muscular to wear this, it needs to be someone slight like you._

Merlin had groaned dramatically and snatched it from Arthur’s hands mutterring vaguely treasonous comments about stupid princes and arrogance and clotpoles and the fear he has that the fate of the kingdom is in the hands of someone as evil as Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur was feeling rather pleased about the situation. He had found a solution and he would get to make fun of Merlin for being even more of a girl than usual. Teasing his manservant was one of his favorite activities. His first insult was on the tip of his tongue but died as Merlin emerged from the dense green of the trees, tripping over his feet, kicking at a rotten stump, huffing angrily, the full skirt swaying against his ankles.

He looked...not as ridiculous as Arthur expected and the journey to the inn was far more silent than Arthur had thought it would be. Arthur constantly stole glances at Merlin from the corner of his eye, reached out an arm to steady him when the path grew haggard. Merlin glared and muttered _I’m not actually a lady_. And Arthur _knew_ that but...there was something very nice about taking care of Merlin, about wrapping his hands around his waist, and pulling him close enough to smell the earthy scent that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Arthur shook his head as he followed Merlin up to the room. 

_Their_ room. 

The _shared_ room. 

With just the _one_ bed.

Sister. Arthur was supposed to say Merlin was his _sister_. That's the story they agreed on as they made their way toward this town while Arthur pretended not to study the lines of Merlin’s exposed collarbones and how narrow his hips were and not think about...things he certainly should _not_ be thinking about his manservant. But his mouth had changed the story before he registered what happened. So now they wouldn’t have two beds, just the one bed, because a _married_ couple would share it.

Only an idiot could get himself in such a situation. He blamed Merlin for looking so...distracting.

It was very late and the room was dark and Merlin set about quickly lighting candles. When Merlin finished he paused for a moment to look down at the dress.

“It suits you.” He was supposed to say it as a joke, a jest, to put them back on their usual bantering terms so Arthur could get his feet beneath him, gain the upper hand once more. But he said it with a sincerity that had Merlin furrowing his brows.

But it _did_ suit him. The blue of his eyes was made so much brighter from the color of the dress, the soft material and lines making Merlin’s face even more delicate. It was a stark contrast to the cut of his jaw and the broad expanse of his shoulders. His lips -- Arthur shook his head. It was alluring in a way Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about.

Alluring in a way that would likely haunt his dreams for years to come.

Merlin must have decided he was mocking. “Quit being such a _prat_ ,” Merlin snarled and threw himself into the bed and bunched the linens around his neck, turning his back on Arthur.

If it was anyone but Merlin he would be surprised that they didn’t offer to take the floor. But instead of reprimanding him, he took off his jacket slowly, deciding he too should keep most of his clothes on. It was a strange thought, _dangerous_ thought, so he didn’t dwell on it for too long.

It should have been uncomfortable, sleeping in such an intimate way with Merlin (who was dressed as a _woman_ his mind so helpfully reminded him). Maybe it wasn’t odd since he and Merlin had slept close on numerous hunting trips, sharing warmth out of a necessity for survival. In the past three years, there were hundreds of instances where the first thing Arthur saw in the morning was Merlin’s sleep soft face, scrunched up in annoyance, glaring at the light of day. But he couldn’t quite stop the thoughts insisting that sharing a bed should be far more uncomfortable than it was.

The most uncomfortable thought, however, was that despite having Merlin just at his side, less than even an arm’s length away, Arthur wanted him _closer_.

\--

**_Merlin- Year 7_ **

The explosion rocked through the castle, knocking both Merlin and Arthur to the ground as they raced down the corridors. They scrambled for purchase, Arthur getting his feet under him first and hauling Merlin upright. Several of the knights sprinted past, heading to the courtyard.

The ambush came as a shock, the sea of enemy knights pouring into the castle, out of the woodwork, up from tombs. The only warning they had was Morgana fainting at the banquet table and waking with a scream, the Vision still flashing before her eyes. Arthur had sprung into action, ordering knights, calming the visiting nobles, sending Morgana up to the battlements to do what she could with her magic, and trying to order Merlin to do the same. 

Merlin’s protests had thus far fallen on deaf ears.

Arthur sighed and Merlin _knew_ that sigh so he crossed his arms readying himself for a fight. He knew Arthur better than he knew himself and the stubborn set of his jaw meant it was going to take a miracle to sway him. A miracle or maybe a bit of magic.

“You need to get to the battlements,” Arthur said, “help Morgana. Hold the citadel.”

Another explosion shook the castle as enemy magic exploded against the ancient stone. Merlin’s magic surged out of him in bright flare of warning sending a wave of magic back toward the enemy. He got close to Arthur’s face so his King could see the gold swirling within the depths. They both knew very well he did not need to remain at the heart of the castle to protect it. “Are you going to fight, _sire_?” He spit out.

Arthur set his jaw and glared at him, scowling in annoyance at Merlin’s use of the title. “Your _job_ is to protect the castle, by orders of your _King_.”

Merlin let out an angry huff of air. “My job is to protect you!”

The next bast sent them both into the rough wall, Merlin’s hands scraped the stone painfully and Arthur grabbed Merlin around the waist to keep him steady. For just a moment, it was Merlin’s back against the wall and Arthur pressed against his front, large hands digging painfully into his hips and how he _wanted_. 

When the castle stopped shaking Arthur snatched his hands back as if he was burned. If Merlin were a better man, he wouldn’t have felt so gutted.

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“ _Ar_ thur.” Merlin met Arthur’s fierce gaze of his own. “You’re King now. You aren’t supposed to be on the front lines of battles.” It was an old argument. One they’d had nearly every day since Arthur started wearing the crown and Merlin told him of a prophecy that wrapped their lives together in a hopeless tangled mess.

Arthur shook his head. “If I’m not willing to fight alongside my people I don’t deserve to be King.”

Merlin grabbed his hair in fistfulls and groaned. “Impossible. You are thoroughly _impossible_.”

Sir Leon skidded around the corner stopping Merlin from really berating his King. “Sire! The knights are ready to ride out.” He flashed Merlin a slightly apologetic look. “And the Lady Morgana says she would benefit from some assistance, my lord.” Merlin tried not to visibly react to the title. It had been one of Arthur’s many requirements when Merlin became Court Sorcerer.

Arthur gave a quick nod. “I’ll be down in a moment.” Leon bowed and raced away again. Merlin watched as Arthur studied him, both of them refusing to give an inch, an impasse. After a few terse moments Arthur’s relaxed completely and unwittingly so did some of the tension in Merlin’s shoulders. “I’m going to be fine. As you may have noticed I’ve actually been trained in combat and have a whole army of knights behind me. Knights who are waiting for me to lead them.”

Merlin ground his teeth hard enough his jaw gave a painful throb. “But you don’t want me there.” He couldn’t keep the pettiness and bitterness and fear out of his voice.

Arthur blinked a few times and gave a defeated sigh. “It isn’t about what I want. There are innocent people in this castle that need your protection. We don’t know how powerful the sorcerers are. You need to hold down the castle and stop the explosions and save the Kingdom. Comes with the territory of being the Court Sorcerer.” He gave a small smile, the smile that always made Merlin’s heart fall right out of his chest. Arthur squeezed his bicep once. “And to be perfectly candid, I do want you here.”

Merlin squawked in annoyance. “Do you think I can’t handle it? I’ve handled far worse than a lousy army!”

Now both Arthur’s arms were on Merlin’s shoulders, digging in, eyes bright and wide and so much more vulnerable than Merlin usually got to see. “I need you safe. I can’t --” He shook his head and all of Merlin’s fears were suddenly written on Arthur’s face. His heart gave a painful clench. Leaning in closer so Merlin could make out the tiny lines right at the corner of his eyes he repeated, “I _need_ you safe.”

Merlin swallowed but gave a terse nod. He’d do anything for Arthur and if this is what he needed right now, then he could give him what he wanted. But it sure as hell was never happening again.

The King took a step back and Merlin let out a huff. “If you die, I am resurrecting you so I can lecture you on the follies of men with excessive pride.”

Arthur let out a bark of a laugh and shook his head, already heading down the hall. “See? And you thought I should pick Morgana for the position! There’s no way she would give such an inspiring pep talk!”

“And if you live you are getting the same lecture!”

Merlin smiled in spite of himself as Arthur raced around the corner and Merlin sent a small prayer out into the world that he would return in one piece.

\--

**_Arthur- Year 4_ **

Gwaine gave him a very inappropriate smirk, not becoming of a knight. It had been difficult enough to convince Uther to allow him to change the knight’s code in the first place, he didn’t need _Gwaine_ proving his father correct.

“You alright there, sire?” the knight asked, pointedly tilting his head to the corner of the hall.

Arthur drained the entirety of his goblet and slammed it on the table before him in the hopes that perhaps his errant manservant will actually do his job instead of _flirting_ in the corner of the room.

He instinctively looked for Morgana over Uther’s shoulder only to remember her seat had been vacant for several months as she went to visit nobles on the edge of the Kingdom. Her letters were few and far between and he couldn’t help but feel as if his own responses never made it.

Technically Merlin _was_ doing his job as he was replenishing the goblets of some visiting knights in Camelot for the tournament. The tournament that Arthur was most assuredly going to win to wipe the _disgusting_ smile off that other man’s face.

“I’m fine,” Arthur grit out watching as Merlin’s body shook with laughter at something the other man said. The knight was woefully average in Arthur’s opinion in both skill on the field and appearance, with mousy brown hair and a slightly upturned nose with two small beady eyes. He looked like a rat. Untrustworthy.

This opinion was all but confirmed when the man reached out and brushed his fingers along the back on Merlin’s palm.

Arthur sucked in a sharp breath and stopped short when he felt Gwaine’s hand on his arm, tight. He hadn’t realized he almost stood.

His father shot him a measuring look.

Arthur shook his head. “I think I might be feeling unwell and will take my leave for the evening, sire.”

The King inclined his head once, indicating his assent and Arthur stormed through the room. He sensed rather than saw Merlin fall into step by his side. Not a step back as was customary for servants but right next to him, keeping pace.

“Is everything alright, sire?”

Arthur cut his eyes to look at his servant. Merlin was biting his lip, his cheeks red whether from nerves or embarrassment Arthur wasn’t sure. Arthur threw open the doors to his chambers and began hastily undoing his belts and buckles until Merlin batted his hands away with a scowl.

Merlin insisted that Arthur always made a mess of his formal attire but Arthur didn’t see how that was any different than what _Merlin_ did.

“Did you enjoy the feast?” Merlin asked, moving around him with practiced precision.

Arthur hummed noncommittally. He knew he shouldn’t address it, his anger, but he did it anyway. “You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

He sensed rather than saw Merlin still. He was always aware of Merlin’s presence, too aware. Merlin resumed undressing him. “Sir Henri had many questions about you,” he answered, quiet, hesitant, like he was trying to parse Arthur’s mood.

Arthur chuckled without humor. “That’s what you were talking about then?”

He felt an angry puff of air behind him and then Merlin was flying through his motions and Arthur was undressed and clad in his nightshirt in record time. Merlin stoked the fire and then stood in front of him with his jaw set and looked him square in the eye.

“Will that be all, _sire_.”

He didn’t want Merlin to leave. He wanted it to be one of those nights where Merlin stayed late polishing his armor and Arthur pretended not to watch him all while Merlin prattled on about a myriad of never ending subjects. Arthur could listen to Merlin talk for hours even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to, knew he was much too fond of his manservant. Arthur swallowed. “Will you be returning to the feast?”

Merlin made a sound like a growl and ran his hands through his hair. “No, Arthur, gods. If you don’t want me serving other knights just say so and spare me the unnecessary dressing down.” Arthur blinked at Merlin in surprise. Merlin’s cheeks flushed and he added a murmured. “ _My lord_.”

Arthur was being selfish and irrational and jealous when he had absolutely no right to be. Merlin wasn’t _his_ , not really, not in the way he wanted him to be. “You are dismissed.”

Arthur made his way to sit in a chair before the hearth, wanting Merlin to leave so he could push down these irrational urges that only Merlin ever seemed capable of bringing out of him.

It was several minutes before Merlin stood in front of him again, studying him intently, blatantly disregarding _direct orders_ given to him by a Prince.

“You don’t have to be worried,” Merlin whispered, barely louder than the crackling of the flames. “About visiting knights or princes or peasants. I’m yours.”

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat, trapping dangerous words he knew he shouldn’t say. He swallowed as Merlin took a step closer and then another until he was right in front of Arthur’s chair, his legs pressed against Arthur’s, and Arthur had to tilt his head up to look at him.

“I see you watching me,” Merlin said, leaning closer until his arms were on either side of Arthur’s head, caging him in. Arthur swallowed again. “At feasts and when you’re training your knights and when I snuff out your candles at night.” Arthur distantly wondered if Merlin was drunk but then he remembered he had been working and he was likely as sober as the grave. This fact made Arthur’s pulse roar in his ears.

Arthur, however, did have wine. Not enough to be drunk, just enough to be bold, to be _dangerous_. “And how do I look?” Arthur whispered too, not wanting to break whatever trance was happening as Merlin leaned in close and ran his nose up the length of Arthur’s. “When I’m watching you?”

Merlin pulled back slightly and gave him a grin that made his toes curl. “Like you want to _devour_ me.” Merlin moved forward, into the chair, until his knees were on either side of Arthur’s hips, straddling him. Arthur couldn’t remember how to breathe. “Am I right,” he asked in a low voice that made Arthur shiver, “my lord?”

“Merlin,” it was a prayer and a plea. Merlin leaned forward so slow, his eyes focused on Arthur’s mouth when Arthur put a hand against his chest. “We can’t.”

Merlin sat back slightly, a moment of confusion. “ _Why_?” The desperation in Merlin’s voice nearly cracked his resolve. The fact that Merlin maybe felt the same way almost entirely undid him.

“It is not honorable for a prince to take advantage of their servant.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Sod your honor. You aren’t taking anything, I’m offering.”

“Merlin,” this time it was just a plea. Arthur wanted _so much_ but he couldn’t do that to Merlin, put him in this position where gossip would spread poisonous and paint him as someone he wasn’t.

Merlin slid off his lap and Arthur tried not to shiver at how cold the room suddenly was. Merlin stood before him once more, hands clasped behind his back, an expression of polite disinterest on his face.

“Will that be all, sire?”

Arthur nodded and Merlin slipped from the room leaving Arthur to stare into the fire, heart _aching,_ wishing for a way to raise Merlin’s station and keep him by Arthur’s side all at once.

\--

**_Merlin- Year 6_ **

Merlin let out a surprised yelp when he entered Gaius chambers, the basket of herbs he was holding falling to the floor in a loud clatter.

The Prince of Camelot sat at Gaius’ table as if that was a perfectly normal thing for him to do.

As if he hadn’t dismissed Merlin from his service several months ago.

As if they were still almost-friends.

“My lord,” Merlin said, bowing slightly as he picked up the basket. Their interactions were awkward and stilted, Merlin more polite and deferential than he had ever been in his entire life and Arthur disinterested and aloof.

It was worse than the time Merlin almost kissed him and they avoided eye contact for a few weeks after.

The only time he had seen any sort of real emotion from Arthur was when the Prince had caught Merlin following him on a quest.

 _I didn’t ask for your protection_.

 _And yet_ , Merlin had said, _here I stand_.

Merlin made his way to the counter. The sickness sweeping through the Kingdom was the worst Gaius had seen in years. The lower town was nearly at the point of quarantine and half the knights were bedridden.

“Is there something you need, sire?”

“Merlin.”

He turned before he could stop himself. Arthur still wasn’t looking at him, still staring at the grains in the table, but the anguish in his voice cut Merlin like a knife. He hadn’t seen Arthur in a few days, hadn’t seen him up close in several weeks. The bags under his eyes were near purple, his complexion wan and waxy, and his cheeks more hollow than they should be.

Merlin was across the room and standing in front of Arthur before he expressly decided to do it. “Are you sick?” His magic gave a quick surge under his skin.

Arthur looked up with dead eyes that knocked the air right out of Merlin. “Not me.”

The King.

Uther Pendragon had been fading for years, held steady by a combination of sheer stubborn determination and Gaius’ various draughts. But the same sickness that was killing half his kingdom had worked its way into his lungs as well.

“Would you like me to make a tincture?” Merlin asked. “Gaius has a new recipe he’s been using with some of the residents of the lower town and they seem to be improving…” he trailed off as he caught the expression on Arthur’s face.

So that’s what he was here for then.

Arthur licked his lips and had the decency to look embarrassed. His eyes went to the closed door and then to Merlin. “Could you -- do you think --” Merlin crossed his arms and waited. If Arthur thought he was getting any help in asking for this favor after shunning Merlin for months, he was as big of a _prat_ as Merlin always said he was. Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I know...I have no right to ask this of you.” Merlin felt his eyebrows climb. Humility was not a common action for the soon-to-be-King of Camelot. “But -- could your -- magic. Could your magic save my father?”

Merlin clenched his teeth. Knowing the question was coming not making it any easier to hear. “I’m not sure. Would the King even want an act of treason to save his life?” Merlin asked before he could stop himself.

Arthur shook his head. “I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t -- I’m --” Arthur took a steadying breath and squared his shoulders the way he did with visiting dignitaries being exceptionally difficult. It made Merlin’s anger surge sharper. “Is that your answer, then?”

“Well, I don’t fancy an execution as my reward,” Merlin snapped.

Arthur reeled as if Merlin had slapped him. “Execution? You think I would -- I wouldn’t -- gods Merlin why do you think I dismissed you from my service?”

All of Merlin’s anger over the past few months bubbled up fast as fire. “Because you can’t stand the idea of looking at an evil, filthy _sorcerer_ ,” Merlin snarled.

Now Arthur looked angry too which was fine with Merlin. He stood abruptly knocking over the bench. It was far more emotion than he usually got. “Is that what you think of me, then?”

Merlin shook his head. “Why else, Arthur? Why else would you sack me and avoid me at all cost and not even look at me for _months_!” The vials on the table were shaking and Merlin breathed in a quick breath to get his magic under control, closing his eyes so Arthur couldn’t see the gold in them.

“You might be an even bigger idiot than I always suspected,” Arthur said. Merlin’s eyes snapped open to take his exasperated expression. “Gods, Merlin if I’m going to lift the Ban on Magic when I’m King what do you think the Court Advisors would say when it’s revealed my manservant had magic? They’d think you had enchanted me! Not to mention that you must have some sort of death wish working so close to my father. I wanted to give you space to protect you.”

Merlin felt like the world was spinning. “You -- I thought you hated me.”

Arthur’s expression softened and with it so did all of Merlin’s sharp anger. “I tried, at first. I was certainly upset but...you’ve done so much for me and the Kingdom. And as you’ve just said, the reward you would get would be an execution so I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to --” Merlin rushed to say, but Arthur cut him off with a gentle smile.

“I understand. And I also understand if you don’t want to heal the very man who orders the executions. I just...I couldn’t bear it if I didn’t explore every option.”

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s forearm as he shook his head at the stupid, noble, Prince before him. “It’s not a matter of what I want to do...I’m not very good at healing magic. And Gaius and I have been looking for a magical cure but some things are just forces of nature and no amount of magic can stray them from their course.”

Arthur nodded, looking crestfallen and defeated. Merlin’s heart throbbed painfully. “But,” he said before he could stop himself, “I suppose I can try.”

The smile he was awarded hit him like a punch to the gut and knocked all the air clean out of him. For Arthur, he’d do just about anything.

\--

**_Arthur- Year 5_ **

“Merlin!”

Arthur stared in horror at the sword swinging toward Merlin, from some distant place in his mind not gripped with panic he registered that Merlin looked equally, if not _more_ , horrified.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, not in the forest on their way to the enemies camp. They were supposed to have the advantage, the element of surprise as they descended on the scouts positioned around Camelot. Sneaking up on Cenred’s army as he once again made a bid for Camelot. Arthur didn’t know what it was going to take to get the other King to concede defeat. He was hoping it wasn’t a full war. Though Camelot’s armies were more than ready for it.

“Arthur!”

The metal in his side was a surprise but the sheer relief that coursed through him as Gwaine tackled the man heading toward Merlin was enough to take the edge off the pain.

Merlin was his biggest weakness in battle, his constant worry about what would become of his manservant, of his closest friend, of the person he held most dear in this world. But Arthur can’t explain that to him, not without giving too much away, and exposing far too much of himself to the other man. So he couldn’t articulate his fears and Merlin refused to stay back when they went to battle and Arthur was left to worry.

But everything was all right. Merlin wasn’t going to die, not right now, and that was enough.

He turned and thrust his sword clean through the man who had stabbed him before the blade could dig any deeper into Arthur’s side but there were a dozen others already cresting the hill. It’s a shame they didn’t have the high ground, would have made it easier.

Arthur took an unsteady step toward the siege then fell to one knee as the world began to swim.

“No!” Merlin’s voice was a shrill scream and Arthur could only watch as the other man ran right through the battle, not caring that swords were passing so close to his unarmoured flesh.

Arthur made a note that if he survived this, he’d get Merlin fitted for some armour. He’d look good in it, but that was a thought for another day.

“You aren’t allowed to die, you stupid _prat_!”

Arthur didn’t think he was going to die, he imagined it would probably be more painful. “Are those going to be your last words to me?” He asked through a sharp breath.

Merlin glared and shook his head. “You absolute cabbagehead,” Merlin snarled, roughly hauling him to his feet, _when did Merlin get so strong_ , “making jokes right now.”

“You’re the one who called me cabbagehead,” Arthur grumbled as Merlin attempted to drag him away from the fight. “We need to stay, I need to help my men.”

“Can’t see what use you’ll be given you’re puny manservant is currently carting you away.”

Arthur’s next retort was cut off by a huge man looming before them. “Get down!” He grabbed Merlin roughly but was too weak for a firm grip. Instead he stared helplessly from the ground as Merlin stood in front of him, no weapon, between him and the enemy. Before he could call for any of his knights, Merlin threw out a hand and the man went _soaring_ , flying through the air until he landed against a tree with a crunch that was heard even over the metallic clang of swords locking.

Perhaps he _was_ dying, hallucinating things that should be impossible.

Two more men approached and they sank to the ground with the loud crack of bone, their necks at an unnatural angle though no one had hit them.

The sounds of the battle quieted as both his men and enemy men turned to look at _Merlin_ , standing before him, his back to Arthur.

“My parting words to you,” Merlin whispered, so soft Arthur could hardly hear him, as he raised a hand and clenched his fist, all the enemy soldiers clawing at their throats as they fell to the ground, “would be asking for forgiveness.”

And Merlin looked at him at last with eyes glowing a treacherous molten gold.

\--

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Act II coming soon!
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated :)


	2. ACT II

**_Merlin- Year 5_ **

“Who knows?”

Arthur wouldn’t look at him. Not since all the enemy soldiers had fallen, not since he ordered his men to return to Camelot, not since Merlin had exposed his secret and lost Arthur’s trust forever. Merlin spared a single moment to be thankful that the expedition was full of Arthur’s most loyal knights. Had any of Uther’s men been there, he’d have been run through.

Although given how Arthur wouldn’t look at him, there was every chance that was still on the table.

The camp was hastily made and untidy, Merlin forbidden from helping with assembly. Arthur sat on the other side of the fire across from him and Merlin wrapped his arms tight around himself trying to keep himself together.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He thought -- maybe once Arthur was King he could just _tell_ him but -- it was too late for anything like that now.

Too late for a lot of the things Merlin had always dreamed of in the quiet secret place in his heart.

Merlin cleared his throat. “Gaius.” A small nod of recognition. Merlin steeled himself, there was no point in not being entirely honest now. “Morgana.”

Arthur’s head snapped up and his gaze was burning harsh as the fire. “You told Morgana?” An accusation, the _instead of me_ unspoken but loud all the same.

There was more to that story, but it wasn’t his to share so Merlin could only answer, “I had to.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, betrayal written in each line of his face and Merlin ached with the knowledge that he put those lines there. All his worst fears were playing out right in front of him. He swallowed and whispered, “I wanted to tell you.”

He watched Arthur, gold in the fire light, clench his jaw. “But you didn’t.”

Merlin bit his lip and took in an unsteady breath. “But I didn’t.”

The knights were keeping their distance, avoiding the storm of Arthur’s anger that was usually Merlin’s job to temper. Leon was looking into the wood, keeping watch, too far away to listen but close enough to intervene should...should something happen. Gwaine had given up all pretense of keeping watch and instead had his arms crossed as he glared. Merlin wasn’t entirely sure who he was glaring at.

“What else?” Arthur’s voice was rough.

Merlin wrapped his arms tighter around himself, knuckles white as he gripped his jacket. “What?” He didn’t understand what Arthur was getting at.

“What else have you done, with your _magic_?” He spit the last word and Merlin flinched. He couldn’t speak right away so Arthur leaned forward with his eyes hard. “Because it seems as though I should have died several times but am miraculously still here, the Kingdom in more or less one piece.” A pause, heavy, suffocating. “I imagine that was you.”

“More than that,” Merlin whispered. Arthur raised an eyebrow in askance. How easy they could communicate, effortlessly understand one another with nothing but a quirk of an eyebrow or a shift of an expression. And that would be gone. Merlin swallowed thickly. “It’s more than several times.”

Arthur’s expression softened with a quick look of surprise. “That you saved the Kingdom?”

Merlin shook his head. “That I saved you.”

There was a silence that descended heavy as a cloak as Arthur watched him over the flames, gold and glowing and regal. Merlin couldn’t help but find the location of this confession rather poetic. He’d tell the flames his sins before they’d claim him on the pyre.

“ _Why_?”

This at least, he could answer easily.

“It is my destiny to serve you, to help you become the greatest king Albion has known.” 

There was something in the shape of Arthur’s features that in any other circumstance Merlin would describe as disappointment. “So you did all this out of a sense of duty?”

Merlin swallowed. “At first.”

Arthur’s stare, if possible, grew more intense. “And now?” The question was challenge and a trial all at once.

Merlin bit his lip and blinked against the sting in his eyes. “Now I’ve seen the kind of man you are Arthur. And I _do_ believe you will be a great king of legend.” Honest, he was supposed to be being entirely honest so he added, “and I’d choose to be by your side destiny or not.”

Arthur’s eyes glowed in the fire, the shining surface of a lake. The King gave a quick shake of his head, mouth pressed into a terse line. “I don’t know how to trust you.”

His eyes stung starper. “I’m still me.” The words were choked and strangled.

Merlin watched as the line between Arthur’s brow smoothed and then shifted, his face changed as something like sorrow formed in the corners of his eyes and the downward turn of his mouth. “But I don’t know who that is.” The words weren’t said with cruelty but they gutted Merlin all the same. “All these years...everything we’ve done...it must look completely different from your eyes.” Arthur shook his head as he stood. “How can you say you’re still you when I haven’t really known you at all.”

\--

**_Arthur- Year 6_ **

Arthur leaned against the doorframe to Gaius’ chambers. Waiting.

Waiting and watching.

“Do you think you could show me?” Arthur asked, more hesitant than usual.

Merlin jumped at his voice and turned to him from where he was grinding herbs into a powder. Arthur had been watching for some time. Watched the muscles of Merlin’s back as he dug into the mortar, watched the slope of his neck as he bent over the table unobstructed by his godawful neckerchief, watched for far longer than he should have as he weighed his words. It was difficult, navigating the new waters of their relationship. One that wasn’t servant and master but rather two equals, two friends grown apart but bridging the differences time had wrought.

Time and circumstances of his own creation.

“Show you what?” Merlin asked with a raised brow. “How to properly use a mortar and pestle? Think even you could figure that one out, Arthur.”

Arthur bit back a smile as he pushed off the doorframe and closed the door behind him. He’d missed Merlin in their absence, an absence that in hindsight was rather ill advised as Morgana had so _lovingly_ informed him when she returned to the Kingdom after Uther was dead and buried. He didn’t blame her for missing the ceremony. He doesn’t know what he’d have done in her position. He was just grateful she had answered his letter.

He missed Merlin’s jabs and insults and steady unwavering faith always at his side. Missed his smile and the way his face would scrunch up when he thought Arthur was being daft and even missed the utterly appalling state he’d leave his chambers in.

Missed his everything really.

He took a seat across from Merlin. “Show me your magic.”

Going by the way Merlin’s mouth clicked open and the shattering of the pestle that slid from Merlin’s fingertips and exploded against the floor, he had taken Merlin by surprise. “What?”

He swallowed. “I don’t...know enough about magic and what I do know is very clouded by prejudice. I’d like to learn more,” he paused watching Merlin for any change of expression but was met with only shock. “If you’re willing to share it,” he added.

Merlin blinked a few times and shook his head, shook his whole body as if trying to shake off whatever thoughts were plaguing him. “I thought Morgana was doing that.”

“Well she is but...I’d also like to see you.” He was finding it very difficult not to blush at his own phrasing. “See your magic.”

He’d always thought of Merlin as an open book, heart on his sleeve, expressions readable from leagues away. But the look he was wearing, eyes slightly crinkled, mouth gently curling at one corner, the smallest of lines right between his eyebrows, _this_ was his real expression of vulnerability. Not the wide-eyed and innocent look he’d put on when he wanted to be left alone. Arthur was finally getting to know the real Merlin.

He couldn’t quite tamp down his excitement at the prospect.

“Really?” A real smile lit up Merlin’s entire face and made Arthur’s pulse rush faster, race hotter through his veins just under his skin. 

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Merlin beamed brighter and moved his hand above the shattered glass on the floor, fingers splayed wide. A glance of raised eyebrows, asking for permission. Arthur motioned for him to go on, attempted to even his own breathing, and tried not to lean forward in anticipation.

He watched as Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and his already thudding pulse went faster. With a tinkling chime, the shards stitched themselves back together. Merlin picked it up and handed it to Arthur, Merlin’s fingers brushing his in a feather-light pressure that left a jolt of electricity in their wake.

There wasn’t a crack or scar or splinter. It was as good as new, better maybe.

Merlin was watching him with his lip between his teeth. At the rate Arthur’s heart was going, it might thud out of his chest. He needed to make sure he didn’t give too much away.

Deflection was the best strategy. Arthur raised an eyebrow. “How many plates have you broken and repaired?”

The smile was back, wide and not quite sheepish. “A few hundred, at least.”

Arthur crossed his arms. “Did you used to use magic to do your chores?” He wasn’t going to ask but his curiosity got the best of him.

There was the too innocent expression that Arthur always thought out-of-place on Merlin’s face. “I would _never_. And certainly only if my master assigned an unreasonable amount of chores to complete in an unjust amount of time.”

Arthur’s laugh burst out of him before he could stop it but couldn’t bring himself to care as it made Merlin smile. Gods, he missed this.

“So what else can you do?” He asked, keeping the nerves from his voice. It wasn’t that he was scared of Merlin, he could never be scared of Merlin, it was that he was still getting used to the idea of magic, re-learning things he thought of as unshakeable truths. “The way Morgana talks she makes it seem like you’re some all powerful sorcerer.”

Merlin flushed and Arthur grinned. It was good to know that Merlin still hated any sort of fanfare. “The druids were a bad influence.”

“To hear her talk about it,” Arthur continued as if Merlin hadn’t spoken, leaning forward, voice teasing, “you are the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”

Merlin scoffed and crossed his arms but Arthur couldn’t help but notice that he leaned forward just a little too. “The druids like a good story,” Merlin mumbled, bottom lip stuck out in a very tempting pout. It would so easy to lean forward and just --

Arthur took a breath to settle his pulse and school the not-quite-appropriate thoughts he was having. “But all stories have some truth in them.” 

Merlin threw out his hands in exasperation. “Do you want to see any more magic or do you just want to irritate me?”

“I think I’m achieving both quite well,” Arthur said with a grin.

Merlin scowled but there was a smile playing on his lips. A distracting smile that Arthur was finding it difficult to look away from.

Merlin whispered a word and all the flames from the candles rose, dancing into the air, coming together to make the image of a dragon that soared above their heads. “Magic isn’t good or evil,” Merlin said in a hushed voice. And Arthur tore his eyes away from the dazzling display to study Merlin. Merlin was still watching the fire he was manipulating, his eyes the same color. Arthur felt a bit dizzy. “It’s a tool, a gift.”

“It’s beautiful,” but when Arthur said it, he wasn’t looking at the dragon made of fire.

Merlin beamed as the fire extinguished itself around the room. Then he scratched his neck and adopted a chagrined sort of expression. “Is this a bad time to tell you about the dragon that lives beneath this castle?”

\--

**_Merlin- Year 4_ **

“Why is it always a creature of magic?” Merlin grumbled as he waded his way deeper into the wood. 

Gaius was fairly certain a fearsome creature had made itself a home at the edge of a forest near one of the villages right on the border of the Kingdom. Uther, heedless of Gaius’ warnings or Arthur’s polite inquiries, commanded the beast to be killed. Perhaps if Morgana was still here she could have persuaded the King to not act so rashly, but as of several months ago she had gone off to live and study with the druids. Not that the King or Arthur knew that, the two of them believed her to be staying with a noble family nestled against a mountain range on the northern border. Difficult to visit without much advanced notice.

Merlin had wanted to tell Arthur at least. Morgana’s only response had been a cool stare with a slight quirk of her eyebrow, _are you going to tell him about your magic?_

A breath, deep and so full his lungs could have burst. _No_ , he admitted. _But it’s different._

Morgana just shook her head, _it’s really not_.

 _But Arthur_ , Merlin started, stopped, selected his words as delicately as he could manage. _You’re the King’s ward. You’re important to the Kingdom. I’m just…nobody._

Morgana finally smiled at him, small and sad. _But you are important to Arthur._

With Morgana away the general sense of the Kingdom was at an all time low. Hence, hunting for a vicious, violent, virulent beast.

Which Merlin would have to deal with.

Again.

Merlin was alone, having “stayed back” in the Kingdom when Arthur left with his knights to slay the beast. There was an accusatory sort of look in Arthur’s eyes when he told him Gaius needed him to stay, but whatever Arthur was feeling, he hadn’t voiced it aloud.

Arthur was making it impossible for Merlin to keep his distance, to keep his feelings hidden and inside himself. If Merlin thought Arthur more cruel, he’d say the man was doing it on purpose to torture Merlin. The heated glances across the fire, the way he always asked Merlin his opinion, the countless trips that were just the two of them, the fact that Arthur was always _touching_ him.

But if Arthur wasn’t doing all of these maddening things to drive Merlin to the brink of insanity, then what _was_ it? And if it was what Merlin _hoped_ it was, then it was going to be very difficult for him to not _do something_ about it.

The forest around him rustled and Merlin froze, ears straining to listen for any sounds he would attribute with a monster: a snarl, a growl, even a hiss. He ducked behind a bush and sat waiting but was met with only unnatural stillness. The sort of stillness that told you the forest itself was waiting because even the trees knew something big was coming.

Both Merlin and the forest did not have long to wait.

But it wasn’t a beast that greeted him.

“I know you are here!” Arthur yelled and Merlin could have killed him. Honestly. This absolutely idiotic Prince yelling for all he’s worth when he _knows_ there is a killer beast on the loose. What on earth had he done before Merlin arrived to keep him alive? “I saw you, prowling along, stalking the beast but I’m here to tell you that the Knights of Camelot have the situation under control. The glory of slaying the beast is not worth the price of your life.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Merlin could name over a dozen times Arthur had put his life below the necessity of defeating a foe.

Arthur whipped toward Merlin, sword right at the hollow of his throat, jaw agape in shock. “Merlin? What on earth --” he looked around as if his entire world had turned on its head. With slow measured movements he lowered his sword. “You...you came without me?” The Prince’s once commanding voice had gone soft, the way it only ever did around Merlin.

Soft in a way that always made Merlin’s knees weak.

“I followed you.” The lie came fast and he schooled his face into a wide-eyed expression.

Arthur put the tip of his sword in the ground and leaned his weight on it. His eyes were calculating and skeptical. “But you were ahead of me.”

Merlin shrugged. “We both know I’m not very good at following.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “Why are you here? You said you didn’t want to come.”

“No, I said _Gaius_ didn’t want me to come.”

Arthur crossed his arms. “ _No_ , you said you wanted to stay and help Gaius.”

“Is there a difference?” Merlin asked. “I think you might be misremembering.”

Arthur scoffed. “I remember everything you’ve said.”

The statement hung there between them as they stared at each other, deep in this forest, the sun filtering through the leaves, giving Arthur a golden glow. Arthur’s eyes were huge and his face looked just a touch flushed. Merlin’s lips parted as he tried to say something but the only things he wanted to say were too condemning to ever take back.

But maybe it was time to risk it. Merlin swallowed. “Arthur --”

A roar and crash, the snapping of branches and scrape of claws against wood. The beast had at last arrived.

Arthur bunched up Merlin’s shirt in his fist and threw him back. Merlin stumbled as Arthur moved to stand in front of him, sword raised. Noble prat.

The beast roared again, head thrown back, chunks of spittle pouring down to the earth. It lunged and so did Arthur.

Behind Arthur’s back, he whispered a near inaudible spell and watched as Arthur’s sword glowed as gold as his eyes before it went clean through the creature.

It fell with a heavy thud.

Arthur tore his sword from the carcass and turned to give Merlin an indecipherable look.

The moment was gone so with a sigh Merlin put them back on their usual ground. “I think your yelling might have alerted it to our presence.”

Arthur huffed and stalked toward Merlin. “My yelling? I think the way you stomped through the forest might have drawn the attention of every predator in the entire Kingdom.”

Merlin gave a wry grin. “Made it this far, didn’t I?”

Arthur furrowed his brow and grew far more solemn and serious. “Next time -- if you’re going to come -- just -- just come with me. So I know -- so you don’t get yourself in trouble.”

Merlin nodded and Arthur gave him one of those soft smiles that Merlin thought of as his, because he’d never seen Arthur give it to anyone else. “Of course.”

Arthur nodded and patted his back. “Right, then let’s return to the knights.”

Merlin spared the creature one glance. “You don’t want it’s head to prove to your father it’s dead?”

Arthur smirked at him. “I thought you said I don’t need trophies as proof I’ve accomplished something.”

Merlin blinked at him. “I didn’t think you were listening when I said that.”

Arthur leaned forward and Merlin’s heart went up through his throat. He could smell the metallic scent of Arthur’s chainmail mixed with the tang of Arthur’s sweat and he could count the almost translucent freckles that adorned Arthur’s nose in the summertime. Arthur grabbed the nape of his neck and gave an affectionate squeeze. “I told you Merlin. I always listen to you.”

Merlin hoped he wasn't listening too closely or else Arthur could hear the thudding of his heart giving everything away.

\--

**_Arthur- Year 7_ **

Arthur frowned at Merlin sitting across from him at the dining table in his chambers. Drafts of policy, books on magic, and letters from nearly all of Camelot’s alliance kingdoms littered the table. Arthur’s eyes were starting to strain from how much reading he had been doing.

“You think it’s a good idea?”

Merlin nodded, fiddling with the parchment in his hands. “Of course. Dead useful.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “But _you_ won’t do it?”

Setting the paper down, Merlin clasped his hands on the table and didn’t quite meet Arthur’s gaze. “You should ask Morgana.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. “But I don’t --” he cut himself off.

 _I don’t want Morgana, I want you_.

He changed directions. It was getting harder, to keep his careful distance, to not give away too much. There was a time many years ago when Merlin had offered what Arthur so desperately craved and Arthur had turned him away. It was necessary at the time given their stations and circumstances and though things were different now, he didn’t know how to broach the topic again, didn’t know if Merlin felt the same way as he did all those years ago, didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t a craving anymore but a _need_ all consuming to have Merlin near him and by his side and whatever else he was willing to be.

This would at least be a start.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Morgana is on her way to becoming a High Priestess of the Old Religion. She is willing to sit on my council but she will not be in Camelot at all times.”

Merlin sighed and looked up. “Your council hates me.”

Arthur smiled. “Not the knights.”

Merlin nodded dramatically. “No, just your most trusted advisors.”

“They aren’t trusted advisors, they are leftover men from the days of my father and if you had been _paying attention_ you’d have noticed I’ve been replacing them over the past two years.” Arthur leaned back. “More so, they’ve been given an ultimatum.” Merlin furrowed his brow. “They can agree to the final decree legalizing magic in Camelot or they can move to a different kingdom.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped. “Arthur, that is a terrible idea.”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s too late now I’ve already done it.”

Merlin shook his head at Arthur, eyes roving over his face like he didn’t recognize him. “ _Why_?”

The easy answer, the horribly complicated answer, the most _honest_ answer was looking right at him. But that wasn’t the whole truth. Arthur looked down at the wood of the table, let his fingers catch on the rough grain. “There are many crimes I have committed --”

He could hear Merlin suck in a sharp, angry breath. “Your father --”

Merlin was always so quick to blame Uther, to absolve Arthur of his culpability. But Arthur was mindful enough that Uther Pendragon’s crimes only went so far.

So Arthur cut him off. “My father is an easy excuse but I am just as, if not _more_ , guilty. I sat by and watched countless innocent people die by his hand for just the suspicion of magic even though I knew it was wrong. I aided and abetted and _ordered_ raids and sentencings and countless other crimes.” Arthur shook his head and looked into Merlin’s wide blue eyes. “People in this Kingdom, _my_ Kingdom, were forced to live in fear simply because they exist. That is something for which I can never truly atone.” 

Merlin was looking at him like he still didn’t know him but this time it was a look of wonder and something that might be awe. Arthur didn’t really deserve that either. Merlin believed in him more than anyone else. He had no idea _why_ seeing as he’d spent the greater part of his life living in willful blind ignorance.

Merlin’s eyes were soft. “You are a good man, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur shook his head. “Not yet, maybe one day.”

“No,” Merlin said, a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Right now, sitting across from me. Good men are willing to admit they were wrong and strive to do better.”

Merlin’s praise made him both warm and uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and hoped his flush wasn't as noticeable as it felt. “Good enough for you to serve on my council?” Arthur asked with a grin.

Merlin rolled his eyes, not hiding his amusement. “You sort of ruined it with that manipulation but…” he sighed. “You really want me?”

Yes. More than anything else in the entire Kingdom. But he was fairly certain that was not what Merlin meant.

Arthur nodded. “You are the most powerful sorcerer to walk this earth, beloved by the druids as well as the people of this Kingdom.” He swallowed. “And I trust no one more than I trust you.”

Merlin sucked in a breath, eyes slightly wet. “Alright.”

Arthur smiled. “You’ll do it?”

Merlin nodded. “But I have some conditions.”

“So do I.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “Wait, I was joking.” Merlin’s expression grew more fearful. “What are _your_ conditions?” 

Conditions that if Merlin still felt the way he did all those years ago would make the _something_ that existed between them possible. But he wasn’t about to explain that to Merlin if he didn’t feel the same way.

Arthur stood and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. “I’ll have Geoffrey draw it up.”

“What. Conditions.” Merlin’s voice held a warning tone, eyes narrowed. Arthur bit back a grin.

“Just some wardrobe requirements, a change in title, compensation,” he waved a hand like it wasn’t important, ignoring Merlin’s absolutely affronted expression. He clicked his tongue and turned for the door. “I really must be off --”

“Arthur.” Merlin stood and began to follow him. “I don’t want any of that stuff --”

Arthur talked over him. “Councils to attend, envoys to greet, crimes to pardon.”

“ _Arthur_!”

Arthur laughed as he fled the room, Merlin at his heels, feeling like he was once again just a Prince with his friend chasing after him.

\--

**_Merlin- Year 3_ **

Merlin looked up from the phrase in the book to stare at Gaius who wasn’t looking at all as sympathetic as he should have been.

“A magic kiss,” Merlin said. Gaius nodded. “As in True Love’s kiss?”

Gaius sighed. “That’s one interpretation.”

Merlin ground his teeth together. “And what is the other?” he asked but he sort of had an idea of where this conversation was going.

How Arthur had stayed alive and unharmed before Merlin arrived in Camelot, Merlin hadn’t a clue. In the past three years he had saved Arthur from magical beasts, angry enchantresses, several assassins, and countless poisons. This was not the first love potion Arthur had consumed but it was proving the hardest to break.

“Well,” Gaius started, “if all it takes is a magic kiss then perhaps it takes a being with magic.”

Merlin pressed his lips into a terse line. “You think if I enchanted a toad that’d do the trick?”

Gaius opened and closed his mouth. He sighed. “Not as such.”

Merlin jumped up and knocked the book to the floor. “Magic is so ridiculous! Why would that be the cure? Who _designed_ this spell? True love’s kiss might make a bit more sense -- but, you know what? -- no, it doesn’t! Why would it have to be a kiss why couldn’t a handshake do the trick!”

Gaius watched him with eyebrows raised. “You’ll have to take it up with the gods of the Old Religion.”

“I just might!” Merlin snarled as he stormed toward the Prince’s chambers. The guards outside the door gave him a wary look which he ignored and made his way into Arthur’s room. Arthur was standing at the window, bottom lip stuck out, brow furrowed, brooding.

Without turning to look at him Arthur said, “I fear I may never find happiness again, Merlin. Not unless I am to be reunited with the love of my life. Without her I may as well perish.” He punctuated the statement by hitting his forearm against the window, leaning forward to rest his head on it.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

The “love of his life” was currently being kept busy by Morgana giving Merlin time to come up with a cure. Once Gaius (after much needling, prodding, and begging from Merlin) told Morgana that her dreams might likely be stemming from magic and Merlin then confessed his _own_ magic, she was proving an excellent accomplice when magic decided to run amuck throughout the Kingdom.

Which seemed to be a near weekly occurrence.

Arthur turned to look at him with sad-puppy eyes, pink lips pouted in a way that would derail all of Merlin’s thoughts if he wasn’t so annoyed. “What would you do Merlin? If you were forbidden from being with the one you love?”

The question hit just a touch too close to home.

“Well,” Merlin said, pretending to tidy some of Arthur’s belongings, “I think I’d just accept it and move on. Better things to worry about and all that.”

Arthur shook his head and scowled. “You couldn’t _possibly_ understand.”

Arthur went back to brooding and Merlin watched as the sun caught his hair and Merlin’s chest gave a funny sort of squeeze with it. Arthur was in that _evil_ white shirt, worn and thin enough to see through and so low it was hardly modest. Merlin kept telling himself he was going to burn it, but he hadn’t yet. _Oh Arthur_ , he thought as he studied the line of his shoulders and the shadow of his profile and the tantalizing golden skin of his neck just visible at his collar, _you have absolutely no idea_.

“Actually,” Merlin hedged carefully, cursing every god he’s ever heard of and inventing a few on the spot, “I think I might have an idea.”

Arthur usually didn’t remember what happened when he woke up from his various enchantments. Merlin was really hoping that would be the case again.

Arthur crossed the room to stand before him. Arthur always stood far closer than was strictly necessary. It really wasn’t helping Merlin’s cause.

Arthur made an impatient sort of hand gesture, indicating Merlin get on with it. “Well, what is it?”

Merlin took in a large breath. “Close your eyes.”

Arthur gave him a withering glare. “How is that going to help?”

Merlin widened his eyes. “Do you want to be reunited with the love of your life or not?” Merlin was rather proud that he only said the statement with a hint of facetiousness.

Arthur blew an annoyed breath out of his nose but complied and stood before Merlin with his eyes shut.

Merlin swallowed. He felt his palms start to sweat. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about this before, a lot, particularly while sleeping and he couldn’t actually control his thoughts. He had just always imagined Arthur as a rather enthusiastic participant.

Magic was so _stupid_ but if all it took was a magic kiss…

He grabbed Arthur’s hand with his slightly clammy one and Arthur only furrowed his brow in confusion at the touch, eyes still shut. Merlin swallowed again, ignored how horribly intimate this felt and how his hand felt like it was on fire where it touched Arthur and the butterflies swirling around his stomach, and raised Arthur’s hand to his mouth and placed a chaste kiss against the other man’s knuckles.

Arthur opened his eyes in confusion and shook his head. “What the --”

And then his eyes rolled back and before he hit the ground Merlin called for a chair to slide across the room and catch him.

At least the spell had broken. The fact that he would not need to listen to Arthur wax poetic about how _in love_ he was almost made the uncomfortable feeling in Merlin’s stomach worth it.

Almost but not quite.

\--

**_Arthur- Year 8_ **

The grass was cool beneath his bare feet, the moon dousing the world in a silver glow. And Merlin --

Merlin was beautiful, leading him by the hand deeper into the woods behind the castle. He was clad in simple clothing: a warn blue tunic, the deep see of the collar unobstructed by any neckerchief (Arthur’s request which had Merlin rolling his eyes in a most dramatic fashion), breeches worn and rolled up his calf, feet as bare as Arthur’s. Arthur was dressed just as simply: in a loose white shirt that Merlin on more than one occasion had threatened to burn and breeches he felt were a touch too tight but Merlin had just blinked at him with fake innocence. Merlin’s hair was getting long, curling over his ears and falling over his forehead when he’d lean back to give Arthur a mischievous grin.

Arthur ignored the unsteady rhythm of his heart, it tended to do that whenever he looked at Merlin for too long. “I still don’t understand why I couldn’t wear boots,” Arthur said. A deflection so he didn’t quite expose his excitement or his nerves.

Merlin shot him a not-quite-annoyed scowl over his shoulder. “It’s symbolic.”

Arthur scoffed. “Of what?”

“Of…” Merlin trailed off and pursed his lips. Arthur bit back a smile. “Well I don’t know but it was in loads of ceremonies.” He shot Arthur another glare. “Are you or are you not going to trust in the advice of your Court Sorcerer?”

Arthur inclined his head slightly conceding defeat and continued to follow along as Merlin pulled him through the trees and into an open clearing that Arthur had visited just once before, nearly two years ago.

“This is where you talked to the dragon after you freed it?”

“After _we_ freed it.” Arthur suppressed an eye roll seeing as he was more of a bystander than anything else during that particular adventure, with Merlin and Morgana beaming at the dragon as if it were a perfectly normal day. Given the turn his Kingdom had taken since lifting the ban on magic, he supposed a meeting with a dragon did constitute a relatively normal day. He much preferred it to meeting with the Sidhe.

Merlin stopped in the middle of the clearing and turned to face Arthur. “There’s a magic here…” he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, hit with moonlight and near glowing. The entire world seemed to bend to Merlin’s will. The tall grass around them curling around his calves, small flowers blooming where Merlin’s bare feet touch the earth, it was as if the stars themselves were shining around Merlin. After a few moments he shook his head and smiled at Arthur, “can’t quite explain it.”

A breeze picked up, tossling Merlin’s untidy hair, making him look fae and ethereal and once again Arthur was struck with his beauty. And then Arthur kissed him, because he had to, because he _could_ now, now that he was Merlin’s and Merlin was his.

Or at least they would be soon enough.

Arthur’s hands cupped Merlin’s cheeks, tilted his head back just the way he liked, Merlin’s hands gripped his hips and tugged him close, making a low noise of assent as he slid his tongue into Arthur’s mouth and set him on fire. Arthur was grinning by the time he pulled back to study this being of magic before him.

Merlin bit his lip and looked up at Arthur from beneath his lashes, as if maybe he was just as nervous as Arthur. “You really want to do this?” He played with the ribbon between his hands.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “No, I dragged you out here in the middle of the night and had you researching magical bindings just for my own entertainment.”

“Well, you’ve certainly had me do enough useless things over the years,” Merlin mumbled but a grin was splitting his face. The kind of grin that had an affection surging in Arthur’s chest, making it tight and sort of hard to breathe. “You really want to bind yourself to me...forever.”

Arthur stepped into Merlin’s space, slid his hands along the expanse of his shoulders, squeezed his biceps. “If you have to ask that,” Arthur said softly, resting his forehead against Merlin’s, “then I fear I have done an abysmal job of showing you just how much you mean to me.”

“It’s not that,” Merlin whispered, “it’s -- for so long -- I never thought -- and now --”

Arthur kissed Merlin soft and sweet and lingering, one after another, lips catching and hesitant to part, until he felt dizzy and intoxicated just from kissing Merlin. He wondered if it would ever stop, feeling this happy being with Merlin, getting a funny sort of tingly sensation all the way down to his toes. Feeling a fire through his veins and deep in his gut making him want to push himself against Merlin and entwine them completely. He didn’t think so, he certainly hoped it wouldn’t. He pulled back and watched Merlin’s eyes open and blink at Arthur as if he couldn’t remember where they were. “Just all that then?” Arthur asked with a fond smile.

Merlin shook his head, a small grin on his lips. “I can’t explain what you mean to me. You’re just -- you’re --”

“Everything,” Arthur finished.

Merlin nodded. “And _more_.”

Arthur kissed him beneath the moonlight and whispered against his lips, “will you bind yourself to me? Oh, Great Emrys.” Merlin hit his arm and gave him an annoyed glower that didn’t look at all convincing. Arthur’s cheeks started to ache from how much he was smiling.

“Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin said with a mischievous sort of grin, “I would have married you yesterday.”

\--

**_Merlin- Year 2_ **

“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered and Merlin felt his heart stop.

“Oh no, you’re _dying_.” 

The news came as a shock. Merlin had tried to subtly check Arthur for injuries and hadn’t seen anything explicit.

They were sheltered in a cave for the night. Camelot too far away and Arthur not eager to return after defying his father to search for the beast. The moment the reports started coming in, Merlin knew it was only a matter of time before they went after it. Arthur grew more and more angry watching knight after knight either vanish or their corpses turn up several days after they left to fell the beast. So Arthur and Merlin set out under the cover of night with an illegally enchanted weapon of which Arthur was none the wiser. 

After only one day of travel, they found the gryphon’s nest. Merlin had suggested they wait but Arthur had decided they should try to hunt it down. But the creature was too smart and it hunted _them_ instead. It caught them by surprise. Jumping between the two of them, separating them. Which was honestly preferred as it allowed Merlin to subtly drop branches on the beast without Arthur being aware that he was the one doing it. In the end, Arthur dispatched the creature with what Merlin thought was minimal injuries. But now he was _apologizing_ which surely could only mean that death was approaching as in his two years of service with Arthur, he had certainly never heard the Prince apologize before, even when he was definitely in the wrong.

Arthur glared at him from across the fire. A fire that had taken Merlin eons to start as Arthur wouldn’t stop _watching_ him as if worried Merlin might vanish. “I’m not dying, you _idiot_. I just --” he shook his head. “If I had listened to you…” he didn’t finish it but Merlin knew where he was going all the same.

Merlin had warned him. That the gryphon would not be easy to kill, that they should have a team of knights, that they should wait for it rather than seek it out, that they should go back. The last suggestion was solely so Merlin could deal with the creature himself. But Arthur was clearly thinking that the mission would have been far more successful if he had just taken Merlin’s advice.

“Don’t do that,” Merlin said. It was weird, Arthur apologizing, Arthur acting like he was anything more than a horribly arrogant prince, Arthur showing a softer side to him that Merlin was rarely blessed with.

Weird wasn’t the right word, dangerous was more accurate.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Commanding me, are you?”

Merlin shrugged. “Well, you were apologizing which is usually my job, thought we were trading for the night, sire.”

At last Arthur gave a weak smile. “Feel good?”

Merlin shook his head. “Feels awful. Only a horrible person would want to order people around.”

And then Arthur laughed loud and obnoxious as always but Merlin felt something in him settle.

There was something intriguing about Arthur. He was rude and entitled but sometimes Merlin would get a look at something a little deeper. When he would stand up to his father when the King wanted to raise taxes and Arthur would rightfully argue that the people were already giving more than their fair share, when he helped Merlin and Morgana smuggle the small druid boy from the palace despite his reservations and fear, when he freed Merlin from the dungeons after the King had thrown him in there for speaking out of turn at council. 

Arthur Pendragon was more complicated than he wanted anyone to see, but he couldn’t completely hide it from Merlin.

Arthur was still looking troubled so Merlin said, “Arthur, you won. The quest was a success and though your father isn’t happy with you, he’s sure to be pleased to hear you defeated the creature.”

Arthur furrowed his brows as he studied Merlin. “That’s not --” He stopped and Merlin felt as if the two of them were standing on the brink of a precipice, one that if they fell over, Merlin would never come back from again. He watched Arthur swallow. “The gryphon could have turned on you. It went for me by some stroke of luck but it could have just as easily gone for _you_.”

Merlin took in an unsteady breath. Arthur wasn’t upset about his father or the glory of winning the quest. He was upset that Merlin could have been hurt.

Merlin’s pulse started racing a tick faster. “But it didn’t.”

Arthur worked his jaw, not listening. “And a few weeks ago when those bandits captured us...if I had just listened to you, that would have _never_ happened and you--” Arthur clenched his fist against his thigh.

Arthur cared about him, more than Merlin had realized.

“Next time,” Merlin said slowly, not sure how to interact with this side of Arthur, “you’ll just have to trust me and do as I suggest.” Arthur was still looking at him too serious and making Merlin’s stomach feel funny. “I’m sure it will be quite the challenge so you might want to start practicing now. Get some sleep, sire.”

And then Arthur’s smile spread across his face honey-slow and Merlin felt as if the earth beneath him gave way completely. And over the precipice he fell.

\--

**_Arthur- Year 9_ **

The door to his chamber swung heavy as he pushed it open. His body was sore and his armor was stiff with dirt and crusted, dried blood. He heard Merlin gently close the door behind him. He didn’t feel fully present, as if he was still on that field with his men and the enemy who used _children_ \--

“That will be all, George,” Merlin’s voice was a gentle command. Arthur hadn’t even noticed George standing beside a tub of steaming water but he watched as he bowed and quickly vacated the room. 

Arthur tried to start undoing his bluckles until Merlin stood before him, eyes soft. “Let me.” The statement carried too much meaning for just those two words.

 _Let me take care of you_.

 _Let me be here_. 

_Let me bring you back home_.

Arthur nodded and watched as if from a distance as Merlin made quick work of his armor (much more efficient than he ever did as a servant) and led him over to the tub, helped him in and bathed him. Merlin scrubbed off the grime and blood and ran soothing fingers over wounds, stitching them closed. Then whispered a spell to clean the water twice as it became too dirty to look at. A gentle pressure and Merlin was pulling him out of the tub, dispelling the water with a lazy wave of his hand. Arthur was still far away when Merlin stood before him and whispered a soft spell. Arthur felt the gentle rush of magic tingle his skin as he was dried completely and Merlin wrapped him in soft linen.

When Merlin ran a tender hand along his cheek, he nearly jumped, completely forgetting where he was. Merlin was studying him, waiting for his cue. Arthur pushed his face into Merlin’s hand (a way Merlin would normally laugh at and compare him to a cat) and pressed his lips against his wrist.

Arthur swallowed. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.” He whispered against the blue veins that lined Merlin’s wrist. Not right now. Not when he was alive with the man he loved stood in front of him. Tomorrow there would be council meetings and death tolls and negotiations but for now there was Merlin.

Merlin nodded and took a small step forward, pressing their foreheads together. Merlin ran his nose down the length of Arthur’s, just breathing, the heat of Merlin’s body making him feel more like himself. “What do you need?” He asked.

Arthur pressed his lips against Merlin’s once before saying, “you.”

He felt Merlin smile before the other man leaned back to study him closely. “But what do you _want_?”

Arthur knew what Merlin was asking. What could he do to help? What could he do that would make everything all right for Arthur? But the last thing Arthur wanted was to talk or to think or to remember.

Arthur stepped forward again, nuzzling into the space where Merlin’s neck meets his shoulder, “you,” he whispered before pressing his lips against the skin, tasting the tang of sweat. “I want,” he said between open mouth kisses up the tendon of Merlin’s neck, “to forget,” a bruised sucked onto the skin just beneath Merlin’s ear that had the other man whining, careening his neck at a sharper angle to give Arthur better access, “everything,” lips dragged along the jut of his jaw, over a slightly stubbled cheek until they caught right on the corner of his mouth. Arthur leaned back to give Merlin a long look, “I want to forget everything but you.”

Merlin didn’t answer, just leaned forward and pressed their lips together, once, twice, lingering longer, pulling at Arthur’s bottom lip, and then his tongue swept along the inner seam, soft and slow and measured, igniting a furnace deep in Arthur’s gut. A hand in Arthur’s hair tugged, hard, and Arthur gasped, relented, opening his mouth, conceding defeat, because this was what he wanted. For Merlin to take and push and light him on fire. To dig his nails into his scalp and skin and bite and mark and make him _feel_.

And then Merlin pushed him onto the bed, crawled on top of him, his weight grounding Arthur back to the earth, back to himself, back to Merlin. Merlin’s fingers across his skin, his teeth against his neck and then his shoulder and down his ribs and against his hip, Merlin’s tongue soothing the bites and roving over his body setting a searing trail in its wake. And then just Merlin, over him, around him, their bodies fitted together completely, not a single space between them, putting him back together again.

\--

**_Merlin- Year 1_ **

There was a braying sort of noise coming from the high table and Merlin looked over the scene of revelry to see the stupid prat of prince chortling obnoxiously, hair golden in the glow of the candles before him, arrogance written in his crooked smirk.

 _Really_?

That was the man that was going to herald an age of peace and prosperity for all of Albion? The man who was destined to give his life to save his Kingdom? A boy who threw _weapons_ at his _servant_? For _fun_? And then threw his people in jail for making a _joke_?

Merlin scratched at his wrist where the iron cuffs had chaffed him.

The dragon was clearly mistaken. And Merlin sure as hell wasn’t worried about _protecting_ such a stupid, arrogant Prince. Destiny could pick somebody else. Merlin wasn’t about to pledge fealty to such a man anytime soon.

Gaius sent him an annoyed look so Merlin kept his opinions of the prattishness of the ruling family to himself. He had a fair few opinions about _the King_ as well.

The King called for order and announced a performance by the esteemed Lady Helen. Merlin sighed in relief. Surely a performance meant that they’d be able to eat something seeing as this was a _feast_. Merlin was near _starving_ as he was only released from jail just before arriving. 

The packed hall grew quiet and listened as the woman began a high, lilting operatic tune. It was eerily beautiful, the notes twisting and turning a somber song. Beautiful as it was, Merlin found it rather dull as he kept nearly nodding off during the performance. He vigorously shook himself and went to ask Gaius how long these things usually last when he noticed the older man to be sound asleep. A quick glance around the hall and his heart leapt into his throat.

Everyone was asleep. The people around him, the King, the horribly arrogant Prince, even the King’s ward had her head on her arms, though she at least looked as if she was trying to open her eyes. Lady Helen herself was wide awake, song pouring out of her, moving down the center of the room, a knife in her hand stalking toward the front table.

Merlin clamped his hands over his ears and looked around in panic. He needed to do something, he needed to stop this, but he didn’t know _how_. He watched as Lady Helen passed beneath a chandelier and without thinking, reached for his magic.

The chandelier sank to the floor with a soft whistle and knocked Lady Helen to the ground, the morose song cutting off abruptly.

The spell broken, the room roused itself. The Ward confused, the Prince concerned, and the King _irate_.

His cry of SORCERY rang through the room and guards quickly ran toward the woman. But no one seemed to really be paying attention. Not to the words she was screaming or the knife still in her hands.

Merlin watched with a tight horrified feeling in his stomach as she pointed it toward the high table and hissed a spell. The world seemed to slow as the knife cut through the air and sailed toward its target. Not the King, but the Prince.

Later (after yelling at Merlin for using such an prominent display of magic right in front of the King and flying across the room too fast for anyone to see to pull the Prince out of the projectile’s path and landing sprawled on top of him staring into his astonished face, after questioning his intelligence for getting a job as manservant to the Prince, arguably one of the _worst_ jobs Merlin could have as someone who can’t control his magic), Gaius would ask him what possessed him to save Arthur in the first place. 

It wouldn’t be until many years later that Merlin could answer that question.

\--

**_Arthur- Year 10_ **

The world was growing colder, the ground, the air, Merlin’s fingers brushing back the damp hair on his forehead. The colors were even changing, shifting from too bright to too dark in turns.

He put his gloved hand against Merlin’s face and desperately wished he could feel the stubble of Merlin’s jaw, wipe the tears from his cheek with his sword calloused fingers.

It was getting hard to breathe, nearly impossible. There was still so much he wanted to say to make this easier for Merlin, to make sure Merlin was going to come through this intact.

“I should have kissed you sooner,” he breathed out on an exhale.

Merlin gave a strangled laugh, wet and thick with tears. “Which time?”

Arthur tried to shake his head but he didn’t know if it worked. “Every time.”

Merlin bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as his tears spilled down his cheeks. That hurt worse than anything else. Arthur moved his thumb across Merlin’s cheek and smiled. Merlin needed hope, Arthur could at least give him that. “I think you’ve rested enough, let’s get to that lake.”

Merlin gave a terse nod and hauled him back to his feet. Even with enchantments Merlin had put on his armor to lessen it and Merlin supporting most of his weight, he was still too heavy and unsteady on his feet.

The journey was an infinity and a moment all wrapped in one. Arthur didn’t focus on his surroundings, his eyes grew too heavy to keep them open, just the sun on his face, the wind brushing his hair, and Merlin wrapped around him. If he could live in one moment for the rest of eternity, this wouldn’t be the worst one. 

His body was going numb, he wasn’t sure if that was from the pain or Merlin keeping the pain away.

The shock of water at his ankles had him opening his eyes. The world was wrong and fuzzy but Merlin was there, a beacon of light amidst the chaos.

Merlin smiled. “Just lie down.”

He wanted to tell Merlin that he was the one who gave the orders so Merlin would roll his eyes and say he never listened to him anyway but he was _so tired_.

And then he was in a boat, the world swimming around him, Merlin walking beside it out into the lake. When he was waist deep he looked down at Arthur biting his lip again. This time Arthur couldn’t lift his arm to wipe off the tears.

Merlin leaned down and pressed their foreheads together and just let the two of them breathe together for a few minutes. Arthur couldn’t open his eyes to study him.

“You’re going to come back,” Merlin whispered. “And I’m going to be here when you do. And then we are going to tell destiny to go fuck itself and leave you alone.”

Arthur hummed and he felt Merlin smile against his lips.

Arthur took a shuddering breath. “Anything, my sorcerer.” 

My Heart.

“My King.” 

My love.

Merlin choked a sob, kissed him once, and then there was only the sound of water lapping against the shore.

\--

  
  



	3. Curtain Call

The water was everywhere, over his skin, in his lungs, he couldn’t _breathe_. All at once he burst through the surface and heaved a gasping breath.

Arthur blinked through the water in his eyes and frantically looked at the world around him, vibrant and blinding and _alive_. The water before him was splashing violently, Arthur tried to throw up an arm to shield his eyes from the wave of water and then he was struck by a weight that nearly toppled him over.

“Arthur!” Merlin cried, clinging to him, burying his face in his neck breathing in panting gasps.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin to keep him on his feet, to keep _both_ of them on their feet. Merlin was shaking in his arms. “Merlin?” Merlin pulled back and looked at him in disbelief. “How long was I gone?”

He had... _died_. Yes, he had definitely been sent off in a boat across a lake and --

Merlin looked up at the rapidly lightening night sky. “Just the one night.” Merlin sobbed again, pressed his hands against his mouth as if trying to keep himself quiet. “I thought I _lost_ you, that I’d never seen you again, I thought I’d have to wait one thousand years before you returned, I --”

“Shh,” Arthur whispered, pulling him close. “I’m here.” Merlin sobbed against his shoulder. Arthur just hugged him tighter. Buried his face in Merlin’s hair and breathed. Merlin smelled like trees just after rain, and herbs hanging in a window to dry, and _home_.

Merlin pulled back with huge eyes. “We need to get out of the water.” His voice was pitched high with fear. He grabbed Arthur’s arm and began tugging him toward the shore. “What if they try to take you back?”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand but allowed himself to be pulled from the water. “They won’t.”

Merlin shook his head, not slowing down or stopping. “How can you know that?”

When they reached the shore Arthur stepped in close and pushed Merlin’s fingers against his neck, right at his pulse point so Merlin could feel the blood thrumming under his veins. Arthur wasn’t sure when Merlin picked up the habit, but he knew it always soothed him. “Because I’m with you.”

Merlin choked a sob, fingers shaking against his neck. “I couldn’t even save you.”

Arthur shook his head and wiped his tears. “Don’t you see? You did. Because I’m _here_.”

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of Merlin and he pressed their foreheads together.

“I would have waited,” he whispered, quiet.

“But now,” Arthur said gently, “you don’t have to. And I wouldn’t want you to have to do that.”

Merlin gave Arthur a soft kiss, both their lips chapped but perfect all the same. “Is it too soon,” he whispered against Arthur’s mouth, sending chills down his spine, “to say ‘I told you so’ about fighting in that battle?”

Arthur threw his head back and laughed, joyous and happy and _alive_ , his whole body shaking as he looked at the wonder of a man before him. “That’s the first thing you want to talk about?”

Merlin was smiling, so wide, all dimples and teeth, small tears still leaking from his eyes. “I think I might be a touch delirious. I don’t really know what I’m saying.” Arthur pulled him close again and Merlin pressed a kiss against Arthur’s pulse point. “I love you.” Another kiss. And then Merlin pulled back to level him with a look of such sincerity that Arthur ached. “That should have been the first thing I said to you.”

Arthur put his hands on either side of Merlin’s face. “And I love you.”

Merlin smiled. “And you’re here.”

Arthur smiled. “And I’m here.”

“And I get to lecture you about how utterly stupid it is for you to continously risk your life for the next ten years.”

Arthur laughed and shook his head. “For as long you want.”

Merlin smirked. “So, forever.”

“Forever doesn’t sound so bad as long as I’m with you.”

\--  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to catch me on [tumblr](https://1-more-page.tumblr.com).
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated :)


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